In The Name of The King
by LadyMyrrdin
Summary: The father Avira know's is not the same man who has terrorized the land. Will she find the strength to defy the Empire her father has built and save Alagaësia, or is her loyalty to her family enough to stay her hand? M rating just to be safe
1. The Great Escape

Avira ran a finger over the delicacies of the ornate circlet. Diamonds, Rubies, Sapphires, Emeralds, and a dozen more glittering gems winked back at her in the moonlight. A pleasant tingle shot up her arm every time she touched one of the jewels.

Returning her hand to her side she perched herself on the window sill, her reflection looking down at the quiet, sleeping city. Tall and slender, Avira's shimmering black hair fell in a strait curtain to the bottom of her shoulder blades, her warm golden eyes reflecting like those of a cat. She ran a finger down the pale, reflected side of her face, and wondered about the world beyond the walls of her home.

Her father was a very protective man, and she had only been into the city a few times, and always with a host of guards at her disposal. Tonight would be a momentous night, but she was having a hard time discerning how she truly felt about it. She blew a breath of hot air, fogging up a small space on the pane, and traced a heart onto it.

_Am I doing the right thing?_ She wondered, not for the first time.

_If we do not leave, Vira, you know worse things are bound to happen. The patience of the king wears short._ Syndûr tried to urge her forward, but fear of the unknown gripped at her heart.

_The king's impatience does not concern me, Syndûr. I worry about our welcome in a place where _anyone_ from the great city is automatically suspect._

_You do not go alone, small one, but with a mighty warrior at your side and in your heart. Make haste, little friend, the sooner we set on our way, the better._

Avira took a deep breath to settle the shaking that had begun in her limbs. Closing her eyes she counted to ten, opened them with renewed purpose, and crossed to the plush four-poster that adorned the center of the room. She had prepared her pack that morning with a few dresses and provisions from the kitchen. She swung the pack to her back and retrieved her bow and quiver from beside the door. With her free hand she removed a torch from its post beside the door.

"Brisingr."

Halls that at the least were confusing, and lost many more, were comfortable and familier to Avira. She had run these halls as a child and used them to avoid her nursemaids and nannies. Every step took her far from her home, from the things that she knew.

_Do not think like this, little friend. Keep walking. Join me, my Vira, come and go with me to our freedom._

_Shut up, Syndûr! This is easy for you; you haven't been around very long. Now leave me to my thoughts._

The pitter patter of her slippers seemed to echo off the walls of the great hall as Avira made her way to the front entry.

"My Lady." The guards bowed their heads in customary respect. "What brings you out at such an hour."

Avira drew herself up to her full height and held her head high. "Sleep escapes me, Urin. I'm leaving the things I will need for tomorrow's ride in the stables, then going for a walk." She had barely stepped down the first few steps to the lower grounds when she turned and looked the guard in the eye. "And Urin? You might be well advised to not question the daughter of the king in the future."

Urin's face paled considerably, and Avira turned and walked as calmly as she could to the stables.

_I'm out._ She walked straight through the stables to the back and trotted out and around the tack, darting between side buildings until she reached the side entrance to the dragon hold. She thrust the torch out in front as she stumbled up the stairs to the main faraway of the hold.

A great platform stood at the bottom, and up the walls were rooms for the dragons. First for guest riders of the kingdom, then to the forsworn, and now to three dragons currently in the king's residence. The red head of a dragon emerged from a lower hold, and above it, the head of a smaller, emerald dragon. The emerald dragon dropped from his perch in the hold and joined Avira on the lower platform.

_Shruikan sleeps, but Thorn is awake._ Syndûr looked up into the eyes of the red dragon. Avira worked to attach her pack to Syndûr's saddle. Above them, Thorn growled. _Tighten faster, little friend, before he awakes Shruikan or brings Murtagh down upon our heads! _

"I do not fear that traitor!" she hissed, tightening the last strap and lifting herself, with Syndûr's aid, into the saddle.

"Where are you going, Princess?" Murtagh's boots echoed off the walls of the dragon hold.

Avira looked down at him from Syndûr's shoulders. "Think you to stop me, Murtagh?" she smiled. It was almost cute, this whole situation. He stared at her from the floor of the dragon hold, his grey eyes searing into hers. "Eitha, Murtagh. Gánga aptr!"

"Eka wilae neo!" a disturbance above them alerted Syndûr and Avira to the movement of Thorn, who jumped down, barely missing Syndûr on the foot of the hold. Thorn roared, a small burst of red hot flame escaping from between his lips. Avira felt Syndûr's heart skip a beat, and tried to send him a bolt of courage.

_He won't hurt us, or my father will have his head on a platter before the sun rises._

_No, he won't hurt _you_._

It hadn't even occurred to Avira that she and Syndûr would be considered separately. From the moment he hatched it seemed he had been a part of her, and she barely remembered a time when things were different; even if it had only been seven months prior. She shut her mind off from Syndûr's fear and opened it to Murtagh and Thorn. The dragon was as mysterious to her as he always was, but in Murtagh there was despair, bitterness, fear, and hate in spades.

She saw the words before he spoke them, and had wards lifted before he could even open his mouth. As syllables fell from his lips they rolled across the space between them, colliding with her wards and rolling up and over their smooth surface with a roll of green magic. Murtagh was made powerful by the Eldunarì her father had given him, but so few were no match for her magic.

Thorn and Murtagh charged at them, Murtagh drawing Zar'roc, as Avira and Syndûr prepared to leave. Syndûr made for the gate as Avira turned in the saddle. Pointing her right hand, the one branded by the Gedwëy Ignasia, she cast a spell at them both. "Aptr!" Thorn slid back only a few inches, but Murtagh was thrown back into the wall of the hold, dropping to the floor, unconscious. Shruikan's resounding roar filled their ears as Syndûr took to the skies of Urû'baen.

_So much for a clean escape._ Avira blinked and leaned forward to rest on Syndûr's neck. The air was cold, and every breath she took came out in a puff of steam. She had forgotten her cloak in her hurry to leave, and the frigid air of a darkened world sent shivers down her spine. She tucked her face into the crook of her elbow, wondering if the trembling of her limbs was only due to the cold.

**All ancient language is roughly translated by using .com and some using an old norse translator.**

_**Brisingr – Fire**_

_**Eitha, Murtagh. **__**Gánga aptr – Leave, Murtagh. Go back**_

_**Eka wilae neo – I will not**_

_**Aptr – Back**_

_**Gedwëy **__**Ignasia – Shining Palm**_

**Pronunciation**

_**Avira – Uh-Veer-Uh**_

_**Syndûr – Sin-Dir (as in 'Dirt") (Cinder)**_

**Inheritance Cycle, all related Characters (Eragon, Shruikan, Galbatoric, Murtagh, etc etc etc) belong to Christopher Paolini! **

**Avira and ****Syndûr © me**


	2. On the Road

When she woke in the morning she found herself nestled in the curve of Syndûr's neck, warm and drowsy. She groaned at the stiffness in her back and pushed herself to her feet. Behind her, Syndûr began to shift and stretch to life, briefly clouding the sun with one of his great wings.

_Good morning, Little Friend._ Syndûr extended his great maw and let loose a yawn accompanied by a small jet of flame.

Avira leapt out of the way just in time. _Watch it! You're going to light me afire!_

Syndûr made a sound deep in his throat, laughing at her. He stretched his torso like that of cat, and spread his wings as far as they would reach in either direction. Avira tried to stretch her weary bones as well, wishing for a hot bath. Dirt and dust covered her from head to foot, soiling her lavender dress and white slippers.

"Uh." Avira sat on a nearby rock and began to remove her slippers, inspecting each one carefully.

_Perhaps it's time you slip into the boots you took from Murtagh?_

Avira frowned at the tattered shape of her soft slippers and the scrapes on her feet from Syndûr's scales. She tossed the slippers aside and retrieved Murtagh's boots from her pack and began to lace them up.

"Where are we, Syndûr?"

_We should be far enough out of the city to only be spotted by another dragon and rider. Feinster is still another one, maybe two days flight away. Furnost is much closer, if we chose to go east; it is less than a day. Dras-Leona and Helgrind are less than a day northwest. If we wish to meet with your friends, I would suggest circling Leona Lake and coming to Feinster from the west, at the base of the Spine. I do not think they will expect anyone from that direction, least of all a rider coming to them from Urû'baen._

_And are the Varden still of the impression the last egg has yet to hatch?_

_I don't know, Vira._

She strapped the last boot tightly to her foot and stared into space, thinking. "I think you're right, but I don't know if we have enough supplies to last us a trip around Leona Lake and down the Spine."

_I will hunt._ She sensed the blow to his pride in his voice and in the bond that connected them. She felt a tinge of remorse but quickly culled it. There was no telling what the next few days would bring, and she would not feel bad for trying to make sure she would be able to eat.

_We should go._ Syndûr knelt down and she climbed up his leg into the saddle. Within a few beats of his broad wings they were in the air and on their way.

A few days later they stopped for a brief rest a few leagues outside Belatona. Avira gazed at the city with longing. She hadn't slept in a real bed in what seemed like ages, and was growing tired of stale break and meat. Surely a city would have fruits, cheese, and a bit of wine to quench her thirst. Syndûr drank freely of the Lake water, but it wasn't enough for her. She wanted something with some flavor and a bit of kick.

_I don't think what you are considering is a wise decision. We are less than a day from Feinster, and surely closer to your friends. Soon you will be speaking to the leader of the Varden herself, and the sooner we arrive the sooner we will know our next move._

_And if I am well rested I will be better apt to keep my head and increase our odds of success. Do as you will for the evening, Syndûr, but tonight I will rest in Belatona._

_And if your father is looking for you? He may well have a hundred men or more searching for you and your likeness splashed over every notice board in the empire by now._

_Maybe, but he will want me alive._

_And me?_

Avira fell silent at that. The life of a daughter was surely more important than that of a dragon, and with Shruikan and Thorn in his aid the king wouldn't need Syndûr. They would be stronger together, of course, but Avira had one other talent that was more valuable to the king than even Syndûr could be. The thought of trading a flagon of wine or ale and a good night's rest for Syndûr's life disgusted her.

_You're right, but we must fly quickly. Another day on this blasted lake or in the Spine and I might begin to suffer from insanity._

**Sorry for the shortness! Another chapter coming at you to make up for it. ^_^**

**Inheritance Cycle, all related Characters (Eragon, Shruikan, Galbatoric, Murtagh, etc etc etc) © to Christopher Paolini! **

**Avira and Syndûr © me**


	3. Limitation of Magics

The next afternoon they could see the towers at Feinster stretching into the sky in the distance. The castle and surrounding walls bordered the southwestern ocean with the islands of Beirland and Nía visible on the far horizon.

They stopped at the base of the Spine in the foothills, Syndûr landing on first his back, then his front feet with a large thud that echoed off the nearby trees and sent birds flying.

_I don't think it wise for you to go alone. They may kill a suspicious woman without thought, but they will certainly think twice about harming a dragon and his rider._

"Relax." The word came out a croak, her throat dry from dust and rusty from non-use. She took a long drink of water while Syndûr chased a falcon lazily in the distance.

Avira removed her boots and made her way over a small hill and down to the ocean. She let the gentle waves of the cove wash over her hot feet, and knelt and swooshed a bit of white foam around with her hand. After so long in the sky with dirt and grime as her friends, the cold ocean was a welcome companion. She sighed, tilting her head back and stretching her hands over her head.

_Enjoying yourself, Little Friend?_

_Very much so, Syndûr, you should join me._ His silence said more than his words, and she could feel his regret. She sent him a smile back and returned to their things.

"I saw the Varden's camp not three leagues past the foothills. I should make it on foot by night fall." She pulled a jeweled dagger and a small pouch out of her pack. The pouch she tucked in her bodice and the dagger she slipped out of its sheath and into her right boot. She took her pack from the saddle and slid it over her shoulders. She had only a few crusts of stale bread and a mouthful of jerky left, but hoped to be feasting at the table of the Varden that very night.

The journey to the camp just outside Feinster was only a few short hours, but every moment was excruciating for Avira. Her legs were sore and didn't want to support her after riding on Syndûr for so long. When she was still some ways off she saw a line of horsemen break from the camp and begin trotting her way. Fear stabbed at her, not helped by the trepidation she had been getting the whole way from Syndûr. She closed the connection between them, her own doubts plenty for them both.

They surrounded her, swords drawn and ready, but not pointed at her.

One of the med looked behind her to the vast expanse of rolling hills that slowly grew into the Spine. "Where did you come from? What is your business here?"

"Take me to the leader of the Varden." Avira was impressed by the strength in her voice.

The man laughed. "You cannot get an audience with the Lady Nasuada-"she choked down her shock at the knowledge that a woman led the Varden. "-by simply demanding one. I will find someplace…comfortable…for you while I _relay_ your request." He motioned to another of his men and waited while the man took Avira's pack and tied her hands behind her back. She struggled against him and the rope he used to hold her.

"What are you doing? Unhand me!" she glared at the man in charge, pulling herself up to her full height. Her hands tied in front of her, the man who had bound her lifted her onto his horse and climbed up behind her. For the first time true panic gripped her, stopping her heart for a fraction of a beat. Without Syndûr she was almost helpless, and currently at the mercy of seven men on large horses still a ways from the main camp. If they wanted to harm her, her screams would be heard by none but Syndûr, who was too far off to stop them in time.

"Be calm." The man leaned over her shoulder and took the reins. "We have no desire to dishonor you, Woman." How comforting.

It took only a few minutes for them to reach the edges of the Varden's encampment. They continued in to its heart, now Feinster castle, and paused outside of a large set of doors just as the sun began to dip beyond the horizon. The men dismounted, and Avira's rider helped her off the horse and to the ground. She stumbled a bit, but he helped keep her upright as their commander entere. A few good while later he emerged, scowling. "Take her in."

She looked at the man whom she had ridden with as he led her into the castle. He was tall, with a mass of shaggy dark hair over broad shoulders, serious grey eyes, and a strong jaw line. His hands were rough on her arm, telling her he worked with his hands. If she hadn't been so terrified, he may have been quite handsome.

At the far end of the tent sat a woman Avira assumed was the Lady Nasuada. She was quite beautiful, with dark ebony skin and almond shaped brown eyes. Her dark hair was arranged in a mass of braids and knots atop her head, and she was garbed in a beautiful dress suited to her stature as the leader of the Varden.

To her right side stood a man of average height, with short brown hair, dark brown eyes, and pointed ears. An elf? A days' worth of stubble covered his jaw, forcing her to reconsider. Could this be Eragon, the only other free rider in all of Alagaësia? She felt another mind brush up against hers and made sure that all her barriers were in place. The man tilted his head and stared at her, and she felt the pressure increase. She quickly switched tactics and pressed back, receiving a flash of distrust before he successfully closed himself off to her.

"If you wish to seek shelter from the Varden, I suggest you continue your journey south, into Surda. There is no place that is wholly safe from the empire, but these are fighting troops; you're likely to get yourself killed if you stay here." Nasuada looked at her, and the man bent down and whispered something in her ear.

"I can be of use to you, Nasuada." When Avira reached into her bodice for the pouch she had stored there a garrison of soldiers – Urgal, dwarf, and human – had blades drawn and pointed her way. She held her hands up, showing them that she had not drawn a weapon. She handed the pouch to Nasuada, her hands still tied before her. "A gift, to aid your cause." Nasuada opened the pouch and tipped it, spilling the jewels into her other hand. "I would suggest, if you chose to sell them, that you do so far, far away from here." From her hand Nasuada plucked an ornate necklace, fashioned of rubies and sapphires, and examined it.

"Where did these jewels come from?" when Avira failed to answer Nasuada eyes her with even more suspicion than when she had walked in. "Lower your barriers and allow my vassal to read your intentions."

"No." Avira felt a fresh pang of fear. The deciding factor would happen any moment. She wished Syndûr were with her, and if the man hadn't been persistent in his pursuit of her mind she may have tried to open herself up to him.

"No one serves the Varden without first being examined. We all have things we wish to keep to ourselves, but you understand that we cannot just trust anyone who wanders into our camp." Nasuada had passed the pouch of jewels to the man, who was whispering something and examining them, probably for enchantments.

"Nasuada, understand this. I have much to offer to the Varden, some of which I will only reveal when I know that _I_ can trust _you_. There are plenty more jewels where those came from, and I think you will find me a more than capable and contributing member of the Varden. I'm an excellent archer, and I've spent my fair share of time in a kitchen." The last part was true, but only by half. Avira had spent a lot of time in the kitchen snatching bread, and ordering Cook about and requesting special dinners and cakes. Absolutely none of her time and been spent actually cooking.

"I can't find any spell on the jewels." Nasuada nodded.

"Then tonight we will test your skills both a bow and a blade. You will be given a tent, but however this goes, you will be guarded until you submit to an examination by the Shadeslayer." She stole a glance at the man in the corner, and Avira was elated that she had guessed right. A shiver of pleasure went up her spine when it occurred to her that Eragon's thoughts would be free thoughts; not clouded by forced oaths or a desire to conquer. It dampened her spirits when she brushed up against his mind again to find them still locked down.

They removed the rope that binded her with a quick slice of a dagger. Having left hers with Syndûr, Avira borrowed a bow. It was heavier, with goose feather arrows, and had a longer draw length then her own. One of the men set a few rotting tomatoes on a parapet some distance away. Struggling with the large bow, Avira nocked an arrow, raised the bow, and breathed a large breath to calm herself. As the last bit of air exhaled from her body she released the arrow. It caught in a crack in the wall just below the first tomato. Her second arrow took off a good sized chunk of the top quarter, and her third sliced right through the middle of the rotting fruit.

Feeling good, Avira handed the bow to a soldier and met Nasuada's watching eyes.

"Now with a blade. Sorin." She motioned for the man who had ridden with, and he handed her a sword. It was cold an heavy in her hand. Awkward and uncomfortable, the good feeling she'd had just a moment before vanished in a breath.

"I don't….I've never…." She shook her head unconsciously.

"It's equally important to have the use of a blade." She nodded.

"Of course."

_Don't fall on the pointy end._ She let out a squeak at Syndûr's voice suddenly in her head. _Be careful, if I got in, so can someone else._

She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her and had noticed, but the only one looking at her suspiciously was Eragon. So lost was she in her worry she almost missed the first blow.

_Duck!_

Avira dropped her head just as Sorin's blade whistled over her head. The quick move set her off balance and she went tumbling to the ground. She heard the whistle of the sword coming her way again and rolled out of the way, the blade crashing to the cobbled ground in a flurry of sparks. She managed to get to her knees before blocking a blow that came at her, rattling her own blade and sending the shock of it up through her shoulders. Pushing herself to her feet, Avira spun out of the way of another blow. Sorin was fast, and with every second her heart beat more furiously, causing her limbs to shake and tremble. She pulled the blade to her shoulder and swung with everything she had at his torso, but he was too fast. He easily blocked her blow, twisted his sword and wrist just right and knocked the sword from her hands. He swung at her torso, and she jumped back, tripping over a loose stone, and landed with a jarring thud on the ground behind her. Sorin stepped forward and placed the tip of his blade just in front of her face.

Feeling Syndûr's rage across the bond and feeding off fear of her own, Avira grabbed the blade and concentrated. Instantly she felt the heat, and the sword began to turn orange, then white under her grasp. Fissures formed, starting at the tip and webbing down the rest of the blade. With a flash of pain it was removed from her grasp, leaving a long bloody slash along her right palm. She lowered her head to the ground for a moment, catching her breath. She was aware that the street was completely silent. After a moment she stood, looking directly at Nasuada, afraid of what she would see in the faces of those around her. Twilight had turned to darkness, and Nasuada's face was completely unreadable.

**From really short, to really long! I'm separating chapters based on content and cliffhangers. ^_^**

**Inheritance Cycle, all related Characters (Eragon, Shruikan, Galbatoric, Murtagh, etc etc etc) © Christopher Paolini! **

**Avira and Syndûr © me**


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